


Between

by Emachinescat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Whump, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bromance or romance, FebuWhump2021, FebuwhumpAlt4, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Identity Reveal, Kilgharrah is mentioned, Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Non-Graphic Violence, Our Sweet Boys, Post-Magic Reveal, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Romance, Romantic or Not They Love Each Other So Dang Much It Hurts, Self-Sacrifice, Uther Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Whump, Whump Fic, either one works, febuwhumpday17, fluff at the end, merlin whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29520420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: When Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic, Arthur has already known for some time – and Arthur has no intention of letting his father kill his servant. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 17: identity reveal
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 282
Collections: Febuwhump 2021 - Emachinescat, febuwhump 2021





	Between

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in early season 4, but is probably considered AU since Uther is not as obviously broken as he is canonically at the beginning of the season, and is still actively ruling Camelot.
> 
> One thing I'd like to note here is that this story can easily be read as Merthur or as deep, intense friendship. One thing I've realized over the course of my time as a Merlin lover is that whether or not you choose to perceive their relationship as romantic or platonic, these two love each other more deeply than perhaps any fictional duo since Frodo and Sam. I only say this because I have really grown to love the dynamic and intimacy that can exist between two friends; I think the media pushes so often that the only deep, meaningful, and emotionally intimate relationships are the romantic ones, and I absolutely do not believe that. (Sorry for blathering on, this has been a soap box of mine recently.)
> 
> All that to say, this can be read as slash or gen, whatever makes you happy! At times when I re-read this, I read it as slash, and other times I read it as gen, and I think it's pretty sweet either way! :)
> 
> Now that that the novel before the story is over, please enjoy! ;)

Uther Pendragon's voice sliced sharper than a finely honed sword and pierced deeper than a ranger's arrow. His words were stone and ice, and they took Prince Arthur's carefully constructed world and turned it on its head, plunging the prince into a state of barely-contained panic.

"The boy must die."

Arthur stood in front of his father, tall and bold, fighting valiantly against the full-bodied chill that stole his breath and curled his gut in on itself. His feet had merged with the floor, his knees locked as tension oozed throughout his body like his blood had turned to sludge. The prince forced himself to maintain eye contact with his father, but he could feel Merlin's presence burning in his peripheral vision.

He knew what he would see if he did glance over, could still see the scene in all its terrible detail in his mind's eye: his servant, the idiotic, self-sacrificing, smart-mouthed, secret sorcerer, hands bound behind his back, gagged, clothes rumpled, a red bruise blooming on his cheekbone, shoved to his knees, a guard's hand gripping the back of his neck and forcing him to bow his head. He'd be trying to look up, anyway, Arthur knew, and his eyes would be wide and scared, laced with regret and only just hinting at the power just beneath the surface.

Arthur had known that Merlin had magic for quite some time now, so the revelation that the servant was actually a sorcerer had not shocked him the way it had his father. The fact that Merlin had been saving the king's life when he was spotted with his eyes burning gold mattered little to King Uther, and he had ordered the servant's arrest the second the assassin's body hit the floor. Anger flared as Arthur thought about how roughly Merlin had been treated since his arrest – he had not fought back at all, had remained docile and subservient, and yet he had been hit and tied up like a common criminal.

Now, Uther, Arthur, a couple of guards, and the painfully subdued Merlin were congregated in the throne room. The king sat on his throne, spine stiff, chin raised, a dark fire nesting in his eyes.

"Father," Arthur countered the death sentence, striving to keep his voice as calm and dispassionate as he could. From past experience dealing with his father, showing emotion would almost certainly be seen as a sign of weakness, or worse – a sign that Arthur had been enchanted and was not in his right mind. At this point, Uther did not know that Arthur was already aware of his servant's magic, and the prince preferred to keep it that way, if at all possible. It would be simpler like that, less messy. "Merlin may have performed magic, but was it not to save your own life? How can you so easily condemn a man for risking his own life to save that of a king's?"

The hardness in the king's eyes did not give. "Magic is evil, Arthur, as I have told you many times before. As you have seen with your own eyes, time and again. Those who practice it cannot escape its corruption."

Maintaining a level tone proved increasingly difficult, but Arthur managed to keep most high emotion out of his next words: "If Merlin were evil, or corrupted, as you say, then why would he use magic to save the life of the man who hates those like him? What possible motive could he have for saving you, if not out of selfless good will?"

Uther considered this for a moment, and Arthur thought – prayed – that he had struck a chord of logic somewhere deep inside of the bitter king. Then the king shrugged and said, "We all know that the boy has never been very bright."

A strange snuffling noise came from the sorcerer beside him, barely audible. Arthur whipped his head round in disbelief. From the way Merlin was being forced to look at the ground, he couldn't get a good look at his features, but Arthur could have sworn that Merlin had snickered through the gag. Well, at least _someone_ was amused. To be fair, though, Arthur had himself reached the point of exhaustion where if he didn't laugh, he would probably start to cry. This was _ridiculous._

"I won't deny that Merlin can be an idiot at times," Arthur conceded carefully, thinking fondly of all the times he had bestowed that particular insult upon his servant. "In fact, you may well be right that it was idiocy that caused him to save your life." Uther's eyes glittered dangerously, but Arthur plowed forward. "After all, he had no obligation to save your life. His life would probably be a hell of a lot easier if he'd let you die."

"How _dare_ –"

"But," Arthur interrupted, knowing that he was taking a risk, walking a very thin line. He could feel the eyes of everyone pressing into him from all sides. The weight of them was enormous. "Despite that, despite how easy – and convenient – it would have been to sit back and do nothing, he _acted_. Not only that, but he acted _knowing_ that this would be his thanks, getting arrested and humiliated and dragged off as a prisoner instead of lauded as a hero." Now that he had started speaking, the words poured out, chasing each other easily in the kind of eloquence that only true passion can produce.

"Tell me, Father – if it had been anyone else, anyone without magic, who had saved your life, how would you have repaid them?" When Uther glared but did not respond, Arthur answered his own question. "They would have been given a feast, a position in the royal household! But Merlin went out of his way to save you, and just because he used magic, something he was _born_ with, he's to be executed like he was the one who tried to kill you in the first place! Do you not see how little that makes sense?"

But Uther had caught on to something else Arthur had said, something that had slipped past his defenses in his fervor. "You knew." The voice crackled with furious energy; the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck stood to wary attention.

He tried to deflect. "Did you not hear what I said, Father? Merlin had no reason to risk his life for you, but he did. How can you kill him for doing the right thing?"

Uther was not to be deterred. The prince was used to this from his father; the king was very good at latching onto one particular detail that benefited him instead of seeing the bigger picture.

"You said that your servant was _born_ with magic. A lie, of course, but the only reason you would think that is if he had told you himself. This means that you have been hiding him, keeping him from me. You have flouted the laws of this kingdom, made a mockery of your king, and put everyone we have sworn to protect at risk!" The scariest aspect of his speech was that he didn't yell a word of it. The cold expression on his face stayed the same. But his eyes _screamed_.

Arthur couldn't contain himself anymore. Irritation bubbling forth, he snapped back, "The only mockery here is your attempting to execute a good man for saving your life."

Uther stood, the motion abrupt and violent. Arthur forced himself not to take a step back at the rage emanating from his father. As he watched, however, the king's eyes softened, only just. Realization had dawned, and it was not a good one, either. "He's enchanted you, my son." Uther reached out his hand to touch Arthur's cheek, and the prince slapped it away impatiently.

"I'm _not_ enchanted," Arthur countered firmly. "You are just very, very angry." No one in the room breathed.

"Yes," King Uther said slowly. "I am." And he wheeled around to face the servant kneeling before him. The guard let go of Merlin's neck and stepped back, but the warlock got no relief. The king's gloved hand meshed itself in dark hair, yanking Merlin's head back with such ferocity that Arthur feared he was trying to snap the servant's neck. He saw Merlin's face, scrunched in pain and steeped in terror, wrenched to the ceiling. He watched in horrified fascination as the Adam's apple darted across the pale, extended throat.

Uther leaned into Merlin's face, so close that their noses nearly touched, and spat, "Undo it." Arthur saw each individual drop of spittle land on Merlin's face. Unable to speak, Merlin returned the king's stare, and after a long moment, his hair was released. Uther backhanded him, hard, across the face. Merlin's head snapped to the side.

"Father, stop!" Arthur ordered, rapidly losing any control he might have had over the situation – and himself.

And then the king drew his sword.

Arthur's own anger culminated in that moment – he had had enough. His father had finally crossed the line. Even as the king drew his sword, in his anger preparing to kill Merlin then and there, Arthur shoved himself between his father and his servant.

The sword hit home.

At first he didn't feel anything. He watched the blade sink into his gut in an entranced, detached sort of way. In slow motion, he saw something inside of his father wither away, saw the horror manifest itself at the realization that he had done the unthinkable – he had killed his son.

Then the pain hit, and he knew he was dying. He fell.

* * *

Up until the point that Arthur had thrown himself in the way of the sword, Merlin had been letting his master handle the situation. Merlin was powerful enough to escape on his own, easily, but he had to let Arthur try to appeal to his father. This was something the prince needed to do, for himself. Merlin had known from the start that it wouldn't make any difference. Probably Arthur had too. But he'd had to try.

And so Merlin had dealt with the arrest, with his arms being twisted painfully behind his back, with the gag and the manhandling and abuse. He'd allowed himself to be shoved to his knees, subservient to a man who stood for everything he hated, because he had dared to save this man's life. He hadn't stopped the assassin for Uther, of course. It had been for Arthur – it had _all_ been for Arthur, everything he had ever done. So naturally, when Arthur took it upon himself to throw away all of the hard work Merlin had put into him over the years, Merlin was more than a little miffed.

The moment that the king's blade connected with Arthur's flesh, Merlin exploded out of his bonds. His eyes flashed gold, his irises burned like dragon's fire, and a gentle wind stopped Arthur from hitting the ground. Merlin surged forward, still on his knees, and caught the gasping, bleeding, dying prince in his arms and pulled him close. Arthur's blue eyes were glazed, not unlike a pond iced over during winter, losing light, losing warmth.

A hot tear wandered down Merlin's face, dropped off his cheekbone, and reappeared as a small splash on a death-pale face. "Arthur," Merlin breathed, and the grief was alive, bubbling, frothing, whipping his magic into a frenzy of pain and purpose.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was kind, barely a whisper, and pain coated his servant's name, making Merlin sick. A shaking, pale hand reached up, cupped the back of Merlin's neck with the gentlest of touches. Merlin leaned forward to hear what Arthur was trying to tell him. What he heard exasperated and amused him in equal measure: "You need … to run."

Merlin shook his head, another tear dropping onto Arthur's face. "I'm not going to leave you," he promised, then looked up at the king, who hovered above like a broken god.

As soon as their eyes met, the king jolted back to life, but a mockery of himself, as if he were playing a part. Still, his gaze was earnest as he stepped forward, and he implored, "Save him."

Merlin glanced down at Arthur, who was fading fast, and wondered if he had what it took to heal the prince. Healing had never been Merlin's specialty; it was a precarious branch of magic, anyway, dealing with life and death and the law of equal exchange. And yet … and yet, Arthur was his _destiny_. The Great Dragon had said so. Arthur couldn't die now; they still hadn't built their Albion together.

Wait – _the Great Dragon_. Hope flooded into Merlin's veins, strengthening him, fueling his magic.

The king must have taken Merlin's pause for hesitation, and he crouched down so that he was eye-level with the man he had been about to kill. It was a nice change to being looked down upon, but Merlin barely registered it in the moment. His only concern was Arthur. "I will give you whatever you want, sorcerer." He closed his eyes, opened them, and amended, with difficulty, "Merlin." He glanced down at his son, then back at the sorcerer holding him. "Save his life, and I will pardon you. I will spare your life." When Merlin didn't immediately answer, he tried again, "I will reward you splendidly. I will let you stay in Camelot, if that is what you desire – I will do _anything_. Just save my son."

Merlin didn't know if Uther meant anything he had just said, or if he would go back on it as soon as Arthur was healed. But it didn't matter. And he told the king such. "I don't want anything from you," he stated simply. "I'm not going to save Arthur so that my own life will be spared. I don't give a damn about my own life. I'm saving him because it's the right thing. And... because I love him, and the world we are going to build together, someday." He looked down at the unconscious prince in his arms, allowed his eyes to glow gold and pretended he didn't see the king flinch. Merlin knew he couldn't do it all himself – he would need the help of an old friend – but he had to at least slow the bleeding, fix what he could until he could get Arthur to Kilgharrah.

When he had finished, the strength had drained out of Merlin, but the bleeding had all but stopped. He knew, however, that the bulk of the internal damage had not been mended. He needed to get Arthur out of the castle, to a clearing, away from Uther and prying eyes. He looked at the king, gaze steady, and when he spoke, his words radiated power and brooked no argument.

"If you want Arthur to live, I have to take him away for a short time. I will bring him back, alive." Merlin didn't care whether Uther approved of his plan or not. He was taking Arthur either way. A slight hesitation, and Merlin promised, "You can trust me. I will not let him die."

* * *

_**Three Days Later** _

Arthur glanced up from the report he was reading as his servant entered the room without knocking, as usual. The prince laid the scroll on the table in front of him. "Merlin," he drawled, his sharp eyes taking in the great purple bruise on the sorcerer's cheek. Otherwise, Merlin had recovered from his arrest – physically, at least. Arthur had some real concerns about Merlin's mental state after all he had been through, from his secret being discovered, to being arrested, threatened with execution, abused, and ultimately having Arthur all but die in his arms. The prince noted with concern that Merlin's face was worn and drawn, but he was smiling. The grin was genuine, and infectious.

"How are you feeling, Sire?"

Arthur considered this for a moment, his hand briefly resting on the scar hidden beneath his tunic. He'd looked at it this morning; it was an ugly thing, long and white, but it looked months old, not days. It barely even hurt anymore. "Much better," Arthur finally answered, and Merlin's smile doubled in size. "Handy thing, having a dragon to heal you when you're sick or injured."

Merlin's face flushed, and he clasped his hands together awkwardly. When Arthur had first discovered Merlin's magic, he had made his servant tell him everything, and Merlin had – including the fact that he'd released the dragon from beneath Camelot, causing all the chaos of the attack on the citadel afterwards. It had taken Arthur a long time to come to terms with that particular piece of knowledge, and even now it was one of the few topics neither master nor servant brought up, as it came with too many painful and difficult memories. "Well, Kigharrah doesn't exactly _like_ being used as a healer. The only times he's ever done the same for me is when I've been at death's door – like with the Serket sting." He'd told Arthur about that, as well.

"Well, I'm thankful, nonetheless. Despite our … history, I now owe him my life." He reconsidered. "Well. Seeing as he's already tried to kill me once before, maybe now we're even." He regarded the servant carefully for a few extended moments, then motioned for Merlin to join him at the table. "Have a seat."

Merlin did as he was told, unnaturally quiet, and waited for Arthur to speak. "I need to say – thank you," Arthur said, leaning forward in his earnestness. "Even if the dragon was the one who healed my wound, it is because of you that I am alive at all."

Merlin flashed a fleeting, but heartfelt, smile. "I couldn't let you die."

"I know," Arthur acknowledged, and let the words hang in the air.

"How are you _really_ doing, Arthur?"

The question wasn't entirely unexpected, but it took the prince off-guard anyway. He shrugged. "If I am being honest, I don't know that I have entirely come to terms with… well, everything yet." He gestured vaguely to his own torso as he spoke. _Everything_ mostly consisted of being stabbed by his own father after the man had tried to kill his best friend. "I will be fine, though."

Merlin nodded, as if he hadn't doubted that for a second. "How's your father?" he asked, almost timidly.

A weary sigh escaped from Arthur's lips. "I think he's still in shock," he admitted. "Obviously, he didn't mean to stab me, but still … he almost watched his only son and heir die by his own hands. Especially after everything with Morgana, I'm … concerned." Arthur tapped his fingers nervously on the tabletop, trying to decide if he should acknowledge the thought that had been skulking in the back of his mind ever since he'd woken up in a clearing with a healing sword wound in the gut, with a great golden dragon looming over him. In the end, he said it, because Merlin was perhaps the only person in Camelot he could speak so frankly with. "I'm worried that he is no longer fit to rule. I've had my doubts since Morgana's betrayal, but now…" His voice wavered the tiniest bit. "I think he's broken, Merlin."

Merlin didn't speak, but he did reach across the table and place a comforting hand on his friend's arm. Arthur gave a weak smile in return.

"Well, at least one good thing came out of this whole travesty," he said after a silent, comfortable beat.

"What's that?"

Arthur looked at Merlin like he'd sprouted a third arm in the center of his chest. Was he making a joke, or was he really that stupid? "You're free."

A corner of Merlin's mouth lifted slightly. "I suppose."

"Merlin, what the hell are you so glum about? My father knows about your magic, and he's allowing you to stay in Camelot! Just avoid doing any kind of magic around him, and he's going to let you be. This is _huge_."

"I suppose," Merlin said again. Then – "At least until the next magical attack happens, and he's reminded once again how evil _all_ sorcerers are."

"If he even tries it, I'll show him this scar again," Arthur retorted fiercely. "I'll remind him of what his hatred nearly did, and that the only reason he still has a son is because of you."

A bit of hope softened the lines between Merlin's eyebrows. "It may not be enough."

"I won't give him a choice." Arthur's voice, authoritative and unrelenting, was that of a great king about to turn the tide of battle. "I won't _let_ him go back on his promise." A moment of charged silence. "And if he tries anything, I _will_ protect you."

Merlin laughed, and the sound was a balm to the prince's aching soul. "It's _my_ job to protect you, you prat! And on that note, if you ever try to die for me again–"

"Who's the prince here, Merlin?" Though Arthur's words were annoyed, his tone held only affection. "Now, get off your lazy arse and go clean something."

"You're the one who told me to sit," Merlin grumbled, but he obeyed.

"And Merlin?"

Merlin turned from where he stood, long fingers poised over the door handle. "Yes, Arthur?"

"I look forward to the kingdom we will build together, too."

Merlin's ears fumed crimson as he realized that Arthur had heard his words to the king three nights ago. Words of friendship, of promises, of love. Words that spoke of building a brighter future, side by side, a king and his warlock. A better world.

After the silence continued from warm into realms of awkwardness, Arthur snapped, "Okay, get out of here. Don't make it weird."

With a grin and a nod, Merlin scurried out of the room with a lightness to his gait that Arthur had not seen in a very long time.

Despite everything, Arthur smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! :) This was one of my favorite ones to write, to be honest. Something about the way each of them are ready and willing to risk everything for the other is to me just… *chef's kiss*
> 
> I also pilfered the "don't make it weird" line from the show "Trollhunters" lol. It was too good not to use in this situation! :)
> 
> There are some more Merlin stories coming in the near future, so keep an eye out if you are interested! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you all so much for your support!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


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